


Hey look at the strange breed

by Marayanna



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Crew as Family, Episode: e060-066 The Stolen Century Parts 1-7, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Family Issues, Gen, Spoilers for Episode: e060-066 The Stolen Century Parts 1-7, Team as Family, let's appreciate how much love and patience it took, living for a century with a bunch of assholes?, my short ode to them not killing each other during the stolen century
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:33:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22792549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marayanna/pseuds/Marayanna
Summary: They are all completely different people, is the thing. That was the intention, of course, the IPRE needed all kinds of skillsets, all kinds of minds. The more different they were, the better the mission’s outcome would be, or so it was believed.  And if it created some sort of personal frictions, well. That’s what professionalism and discipline were for. Their makeshift bonds and their patience should be enough to last them a couple of months.The IPRE brass would be proud, perhaps, if they could see how far they’ve come. How far they are stillgoing.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	Hey look at the strange breed

**Author's Note:**

> [Mother Mother - Family](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oNtnALcr5JI)

The thing is, it would be so incredibly easy for them to hate each other.

First, when their home planet gets torn to pieces in front of their own eyes. When the panic sets in and freezes their limbs and clouds their thoughts. It would be so, _so_ easy to put blame on somebody, to shout and snipe and point fingers, to place their fear and helplessness _somewhere._

But instead, they steel themselves. They do what they have to do – run, survive, gather information. It’s not them against each other, it's them against – whatever they are against, and they know that. They share awkward arm squeezes, clumsy consolations. They don’t know each other well – only from training grounds, only from classrooms. They have no way to know what the others might need in the face of such utter and complete destruction, but by gods, they try to provide it anyway.

It doesn’t even occur to them that hating each other might be an _option._

And then, few cycles in, when the terror wears down to a low background hum, one they come to accept as their norm, and it starts dawning on them that their journey might last for a _very_ long time. There was a saying on their home planet, that the fastest way to understand the murderer’s mind is to share a too small flat with too many people.

During their years on the Starblaster, they repeat it a lot.

They are all completely different people, is the thing. That was the intention, of course. IPRE needed all kinds of skillsets, all kinds of minds. During their mission they would make the first contact with countless new civilizations, each with their own culture and expectations and norms, and they would have to have a suitable representative for any of them. The more different they were, the better the mission’s outcome would be, or so it was believed. And if it created some sort of personal frictions, well. That’s what professionalism and discipline were for. Their makeshift bonds and their patience should be enough to last them a couple of months.

The IPRE brass would be proud, perhaps, if they could see how far they’ve come. How far they are still _going_.

There is seven of them on the small ship designed for two months of travel. There are seven of them running on hope and adrenaline from the eldritch abomination, leaving countless destroyed worlds in their wake. Seven of them, with all of their moods, and pettiness, and bad habits.

It would be so easy to hate each other in those decades. And sometimes they come close, too. There are days when Lup – despite repeating for twenty years that dirty socks on the table disgust her – still finds them near her coffee mug in the morning. When it turns that Magnus cannot sleep without the sound of music lulling hi to sleep each night, but Davenport is on the other side of the very thin walls and gets woken up by the smallest of sounds. When Barry is not uptight about his privacy, really, anybody can always come and grab whatever they need from his room, but then he comes back to ship after few weeks of grueling research only to find his room in complete disarray, his things thrown around without a care, and feels something hot rising in his veins.

The world may be ending and yet it’s not some great fights over the nature of good and evil that almost tear them apart, no. It’s always the small things. It says something about the nature of humanity, perhaps.

But instead, they _talk._ And they argue and shout and push each other to the limits. And then they talk some more, and even more importantly, they _listen._ Together they come up with solutions to their spats, they argue again when they don’t work, then work together some more to come up with something that _will_.

It’s them, together, against their problems, and each day the bond engine glows a little bit brighter.

They look at it, sometimes, and whisper fearfully _it would be so easy, so easy._ Easy to be blinded by their pride, to not try and reach out, to not be met halfway, to let the darkness take over. To land on some foreign planet, far from home, and be unable to take off again because their engine wouldn’t start, because their bonds would be cold and _dead._

And then, cycle ninety nine.

They are like one seven pieced organism by then, shaped by years of struggle and flight. They anticipate each other’s need as easily as they breathe and are always just where the others need them, in the battle, in the lab, or on the couch in the middle of the night, when it all gets just too much.

They come up with a plan to split the Light. They argue about it, they reach an agreement, they execute it. They work like a clockwork, but it’s an old, battered one. A well-oiled machine that starts to squeak and shake from the strain.

And then it all goes wrong. They win, but the cost turns out too great. They can finally rest, but they are consumed by guilt. They are done and hollow and so, so tired.

So easy, then, as, well.

_It’s all your fault_ they don’t say, even though they could, they could point fingers at those who came up with the idea, at those who defended it the fiercest, at those who executed it the fastest. _You did this_ they could claim just to brush the blood from their hands and put it on someone else’s.

And instead, Lup takes it on herself to fix their problems and doesn’t come back home.

And instead, Lucretia takes it on herself to fix their problems and they all lose their home.

First time in a hundred years they try to solve their problems on their own, and the whole machine falls apart. They are thrown across the world like cogwheels shooting out from the collapsing clockwork. Some of them forget, some of them are trapped, and anybody can help anyone.

And when they finally reunite, it would be the easiest it ever was.

They almost do hate each other then. There’s anger and grief and bitterness. Because of what Lucretia tried to do, because of what Lup ended up doing, because of what Barry should have done and what Davenport wants to do in the face of his recovered memories. There’s blame and there’s heartache and there’s the world falling apart around them, but when they board the ship to make one last attempt to fix this, to find a solution, the engine _works._

The seven of them are so, so different. And yet, against all odds, they went through hundred year old journey loving each other stronger and stronger, one day at a time. Through their arguments, through their issues, through betrayals even. Each time they emerged loving each other still.

If different people would get chosen as the Starblaster crew, what would have happened?

Through all this pain, through all this hardship, it would be so easy for them to hate each other.

But they didn’t.


End file.
